Not My Daughter
by Blondie Pants
Summary: The climactic moments of the Battle of Hogwarts from Molly's point of view. She's grieving, but that doesn't mean she can't protect what is left of her family. Oneshot.


This is one of my favorite things I've EVER written. Review if you like it! Faving without reviewing sucks :(

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Molly was aware, in some corner of her mind, that many lives had been lost in the last few hours. But at that moment, only two mattered: Harry and Fred—her sons, her beloved, brave, sons. Fred, who nearly everyone had seen as one half of a whole, but he was more than that… He was the more reckless of the already reckless pair, the one she could pick out by his crossed arms, whereas George always had his hands in his pockets. Never once had she truly confused them. And Harry, who had befriended her terrified Ron, engaged in a bizarre dance for her daughter's heart, and now had walked straight into the open arms of death.

Hagrid's great tears were splashing onto Harry's clothes as he laid him on the grass by Voldemort's feet. Molly felt the tears sliding down her cheeks, but forced herself to meet his terrible eyes. In this life or the next, he would _pay_ for the murder of her sons… She didn't care how long it took or how many dimensions she had to travel through, she would find him.

"You see? Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

Molly almost laughed at that. It was absurd, the lie he was trying to pass off. He had told Harry to give himself up, to die, and he had. Now he was telling them that he had hidden behind others? It was so transparent that she wanted to reach right through it and _twist_…ears, she knew from experience, were exceptionally effective in getting the truth out of males.

"He beat you!" Ron yelled, brave as he never believed he was. Chaos, for a moment, and a bang brought silence again.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, killed while trying to save himself—"

Neville rushed forward. Sweet, courageous Neville, so like his father… Voldemort laughed and disarmed him effortlessly. "And who is this?" His voice had lowered to a hiss and the snake stirred on his shoulders. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix Lestrange laughed.

"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?" Molly shook with anger. The madwoman had no right to even utter the name "Longbottom," no right to look at the son that she had condemned to a lifetime of torture that she would never understand.

"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing alone between the survivors and the Death Eaters. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked. Neville's hands clenched into fists, as if searching the air for his wand.

"So what if I am?"

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!" A responding cheer rose from the crowd. Voldemort seemed unable to cast a Silencing charm powerful enough to hold.

"Very well," said Voldemort, in a silky voice that made Molly shiver, "if that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head, be it."

Voldemort waved his wand. A ragged bunch of cloth soared through a shattered window and landed in his hand. Molly recognized it as the Sorting Hat.

"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," said Voldemort. "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

Neville was immobilized with a small spell, and Voldemort put the hat on Neville's head. It slipped down below his eyes and the Death Eaters raised their wands together. They seemed to be daring the survivors: _Defend him._

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and the Sorting Hat burst into flames.

Molly was not the only person who screamed. It was beyond, horrific, watching the boy's head be consumed by fire…he couldn't even scream in pain.

The sound of hundreds of people yelling reached the crowd of survivors and Death Eaters. Hagrid's brother appeared around the side of the castle, shouting his version of Hagrid's name, and Voldemort's giants rushed at him. The whole earth seemed to shake with the force of their pounding feet. Arrows filled the air, the Death Eaters scattered; who wanted to be forever mocked for being killed by a centaur's _arrow_?

Neville broke free of the hex. The fiery hat fell and he pulled a gleaming sword from it. He brought the blade down, slicing the head from the monstrous snake that hung around Voldemort's shoulders like a grotesque scarf. Why the snake, Molly was not sure, but at the very least it distracted them. Voldemort's shriek of rage was bone-chilling, and all at once everyone was fighting again.

Chaos…utter chaos. There was no one, nothing, except flying curses, pounding hooves and giants, humans and creatures alike jostling, trying not to be trampled… The house-elves rushed into the fray, brandishing knives and meat cleavers, shouting something… Molly dove into the Great Hall, cursing right and left, unable to react quickly because _everyone_ was wearing black… Voldemort was viciously dueling Kingsley, Minerva and Horace, matching all three with apparent ease, and fifty-some meters away was Bellatrix, also fighting three. A blast of green light singed off a lock of red hair as its owner ducked—_RED?_

Something unidentifiable swept through Molly Weasley's blood. Without telling her legs to do it, she was charging forward, a creature of pure fury, knocking someone aside as a scream she did not recognize found its way past her lips—

"_NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"_

Her cloak fell behind her somewhere, she shoved one of the girls aside, who she wasn't quite sure, all she knew was that she had lost two sons tonight and this beast from hell was _never_ going to have her Princess, her youngest.

"OUT OF MY WAY!"

Bellatrix Lestrange's smile widened, for a moment, then morphed into something even more terrible as she realized that something had snapped inside Molly Weasley.

The floor under their feet was cracking from the heat of the spells and someone rushed forward to help. "No! Get back! _Get back!_ She is mine!"

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you? When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

The taunts did not seem to reach her. There was only one thought in Molly's mind, leaving no room for anything else, even fear for her children if Bellatrix beat her. "You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!" It was not an order, but a fact, and it _consumed_ her.

And Bellatrix _laughed_, as if it was all some wonderful, evil joke, but Molly had seen it, her opening. The curse shot underneath her elbow, straight into her chest.

The laugh died, but the smile did not, and a scream with the force of a cannon found Molly's ears as the Death Eater fell. She looked to her left—there was Voldemort, his scarlet eyes on her and wand raised—

"_Protego!"_

Voldemort looked confused for a moment, looking for the source of the spell, and there he was, taking off his Invisibility Cloak, wand up.

Molly thought her heart might burst out of her chest. Surely her body could not contain all the emotions rushing through her. He was _alive._ How, she did not know, nor did it matter. All that mattered was that she had not lost him. She only had one son to mourn. A dear, precious thing to lose that Molly would have given anything to have not lost, but if there was one glimmer of joy, there it was: she had not lost two.

They circled each other, Harry almost _jeering_ him…_Stop toying with him, Harry,_ Molly thought. _I can't lose you twice._ Dumbledore, the Elder wand, love. It was confusing. Something about Severus being on the Order's side the whole time. She tried to follow what they were talking about, but most of it was making no sense. Horcruxes, Hallows, Draco Malfoy's wand…?

Then, they both shouted, gold fire burst between them, her eardrums throbbed with the noise of the blast…and when she looked again, Harry held two wands and the greatest threat to wizard-kind lay still on the stone floor.


End file.
